


(You shall) Overcome

by DevilishHappy



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: A Sinnerman fic, Angst, But wings, Canon till 3x08, Don't piss off the Devil!, F/M, Feels, First try - Have mercy!!, Gruesome Murder, Kidnapping, Lucifer Whump!, Mention of torture, Protective Lucifer, Reveal, Sorry - no fluff, afterwards most certainly not, and more..., at least not yet, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishHappy/pseuds/DevilishHappy
Summary: He takes a closer look at the metal bounds which are holding him so adamantly in place.And he begins to understand... can almost sense it, feel it vibrate. This smooth, dark grey iron with an inherent glint of blue... They're not earthly.These are forged in thefires of Hell.------------------An idea to the Sinnerman story arc that I couldn't get out of my mind... rather serious and dark, but also some light... sorry!? :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just another Sinnerman-theory that kept nagging my brain and prompted me to this first fanfic.  
> Not beta-ed, so all mistakes and faults are mine and only mine! *SorrynotSorry* :)  
> Starting with a short chapter, frequently updated - Hope, you'll enjoy it nonetheless! (let me know!?)  
> (Rated M for coming depictions of a tortured and killed person and stuff like that)

As he slowly regains consciousness it almost feels like a deja-vu.  
Almost.

The throbbing pain against the skull, limbs heavy and weak, throat dry like the desert...  
But this time there's no desert. No skin-burning rays of a blazing sun above, no pricking sand and gravel beneath, no simmering air brazing his loungs.  
He's not lying on heated ground either but seated on the most uncomfortable chair his behind ever happened to meet, chilling metal countering his body heat and rough edges cutting into his thighs and neck.

_Bloody hell, there are torture racks more comfy than this!_

With an unpleasant groan he rolls his head to the side and up, forces his eyelids to lift.  
After blinking away another intruding sting he takes in his surroundings. Although there's not much to take in in this half-dark.  
A rectangular room, maybe twenty square yards, grey concrete walls and floor, faintly iluminated by a single lamp dangling from the middle of the ceiling. In front of him a plain white table with metal legs, accompanied by a suiting chair on the other side. A steel door to his left.  
Probably some basement... but, oddly, there's a dark curtain entirely covering the opposite wall... maybe preventing any possible light from penetrating into his cell. 

Because, he has no doubts that this ought to be a cell - as he's getting aware of all the shackles that are restricting several parts of his body.  
Each wrist and ankle is wearing an icy metal ring, all of them linked together with thick, clanging chains, not leaving enough space to raise hands or stretch feet. In addition, his upper chest and arms are pinioned by something like a broad iron belt, tightly stretching around him.  
No, these confinements wouldn't even grant fun at some nasty carnal activities.

He curtly tries to bend forwards – quite to no avail as there seems to be another rattling chain connected to the belt on his backside, the other end obviously fixed to something else behind. 

And he becomes aware of another disturbing fact: The clinging iron's even broader on his back, extending up to his shoulders, burying every inch of him there under it.  
As he tries to make any sense of this obviously deliberate smithery realisation hits his mind.

_To keep me from unfurling my wings.  
Somebody knows._

But how in Father's name could he be...  
_Chloe!_  
Memories are flooding his brain like a tidal wave, splashing his eyes wide open, flashing a violent jolt through him.  
_She_ was there. With him.  
She'd called him, and he'd found her, and suddenly there was something sticking out of her neck, and she went down, and he tried to catch her, and then a sharp pain and... darkness.

_Where is she? Is she alive? If any bloody miscreants harmed her..._

His whole body starts to move at once, to pull, to tear his shackles with his raging supernatural strenghts as no earthly chains are supposed to hold him. 

But they do.

It takes him a couple of minutes to realise that he can't break them, even can't command the locks he's found to open. 

_This shouldn't be possible..._

Anxiety's slowly capturing his mind, sending tremors through every fibre.  
He has to get out of here, _NOW_... he won't sit here like some helpless, pitiful mortal and wait for... for whatever to happen... and the Heavens be damned if something's happened to _HER!_...  
His ragged breathing shifts into an ascending cry, full of anguish and fury, bursting out of his loungs against the liveless conrete around him, fueling him into another fight with his chains.  
Though fruitless, since all his determination and desperate efforts aren't showing any effect. 

At last, he forces himself to calm down, mentally and physically.  
There must be a reason, an explanation.

He takes a closer look at the metal bounds which are holding him so adamantly in place.  
And he begins to understand... can almost sense it, feel it vibrate. This smooth, dark grey iron with an inherent glint of blue...  
They are not earthly.  
These are forged in the _fires of Hell_.

Probably this should be a shock to him. But it isn't really, not after all that happened recently.  
For this revelation rather answers a question that's been haunting his mind for many weeks. Actually, since he got back his wings and lost his Devil's face.  
And learned for the first time about someone called 'the Sinnerman'.

_'Do you think he's human... or something else?'_  
_'I don't know. But whatever he is, I'm gonna stop at nothing to find him.'_  
And he remembers: _'You don't – He finds you!'_

Apparently not only him.  
The Sinnerman's also found _her_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooo much for all the kudos and nice comments - you guys are reeaaally great!  
> Sorry for the delayed update, chapter got a little longer than intended and I didn't want to split.  
> And, speaking of, I must annotate that any miniscule resemblances to the last ep on the show are totally accidental, since I'd made a sketch of the whole story and had written the first part of this chap >before< it was airing.  
> Well, I hope you'll like it! :)

**13 hours earlier**

Sometimes she wishes that Lucifer really were the _actual_ Devil. That everything he'd ever told her were the real truth.

Not because it'd explain all the very unexplainable things that happen around him (well, admitted, that'd be a bonus) or because it'd give some reason for his so often weird behaviour (ok, another plus... sort of).  
But much more it would mean that there _were_ an actual Hell, a place where truly evil people would end up eventually to be punished for a bazillion years... or how long ever eternity's supposed to last.  
That kind of evil people who'd commit a murder like the one she has to investigate this morning.

It's been a while since Chloe Decker had come to a crime scene and immediately felt like throwing up.  
All the years being on the force, having seen so many victims, killed in so many ways, didn't quite help to be prepared for a sight like this one in front of her.

A woman, hanging in the middle of the room, a bedroom, one end of a smeared rope tightly around her wrists, the other attached to the same ceiling hook as the cable of the slantingly beige lampshade, a dark-glossy puddle on the fluffy carpet beneath her still dripping feet.

Her age is hard to tell, partly because of the curly dark strands covering her face, but mainly for there're just too much brownish red covering her naked body - and there're just _too many_ wounds.  
Though by the light and youthful decor, countless pink and caramel pillows, a bowl with brash trinkets on the sideboard, laptop on the nightstand... she couldn't have been more than twenty-five.  
_So many years ferociously stolen from her..._

Chloe forces the ascending lump of bile back in her stomach and her loungs to breath regularly, albeit it's hard with this sticky sweet stale air around and the countless blood stains splattering the appealing interiour.  
She gazes at the two unis who're cautiously checking the room, seemingly unaffected. Or they're just very good at hiding.

Avoiding another look at the victim, she straightens and concentrates on the young forensic colleague standing beside the dangling corpse, taking photographs.  
„Ok Ella, what do we have so far?“

The normally so vibrant and enthusiastic small woman swallows hard and takes a few seconds to collect herself.  
„Melissa Bradley, twenty-three, moved here from some hamlet in Arizona five months ago, apparently worked as a waitress...“ Ella stops, squeezes her eyes shut with a curt shake of her head.  
„So sick.“ she breathes out. „I mean, I've seen gruesome stuff before but this's straight outta Freddy Kruger's diary. See all the cuts there?“  
She points to the victim's breasts, abdomen and thighs.  
„Rims are ragged, like multiple tiny saws did this. But there're also those bruises and the lines seem bursted, as if from a sudden impact,... maybe kinda cat o' nine tails?... That'd also explain the patterns...“ her voice trails off.

Chloe nods empathetically and waits for her to continue.

Ella clears her throat. „At this point cause of death seems to be the gap in the chest. Looks like it's going all through the ribcage and viscera.“ Another pause.  
„But the most unsettling injuries are the ones on her eyes“.

The Detective frowns and takes reluctantly another step forwards, slightly bending for a better angle to peek through the dead womans hair.  
And she sees what Ella's been indicating.  
There are _no_ eyes anymore.  
Instead of eyelids or irises or pupils there's bulging egg-white pulp, almost like wet spackle, oozing from each black-rimmed eyehole.

„How... What... is... _this_?“

„Can't say for sure, but by the charred-looking skin I'd suggest it had to do with extremely high temperatures. Though, I can't imagine how this was done since the source of heat'd have to have emitted from the inside to leave such marks.“

The abonimable sight and information is suddenly too much for Chloe and she steps back with a jolt, trying to break the hold of her breath as she feels nausea and anger surfacing again.

_What kind of... beast is able to do this?_

But she has to regain her composure - she's a professional, a cop who simply has to deal even with this worst kind of evil and cruelty. A cop who has to keep a level-head in order to find that fucking insane son of a bitch who did this.

„Any traces concerning the killer?“

Ella, aware of Chloe's inner fight, kneels down and stows away the camera in her big black working bag.  
„So far no fingerprints, hairs or signs of DNA. Hope I'll find something on the body, maybe there's...“

_„Detective!“_

The two women and the unis flip their heads abruptly to the door as the owner of the recognisable British voice enters the room from the hallway.

„I assumed you would be able to wait until I finished my - “

Lucifer freezes instantly as he's acquiring the scene, his jaw hanging slightly, his eyes growing wide and dark.

„Lissa...“

„You know her?“ Chloe asks surprised.

„Barely...she came to LUX, a few weeks ago... requesting a deal.“  
Her partner appears unusually shocked.

„What kind of deal?“

„Nothing out of the ordinary,“ Lucifer mutters, still gazing at the corpse „ a bit part on the next Nolan-movie.“

„And, she got it?“ Chloe tries to keep her typical interrogation tone down.

„Yes... of course she did.“

„What did you want in return?“ 

„What I mostly take – a simple IOU.“

Chloe processes his information for a moment. She can't imagine if or how this possibly could be connected to the murder.  
But then again, she's already experienced how Lucifer's deals would – inadvertently – cause bad 'side effects', like the case with Benny Choi.  
If they won't find any other lead she'll probably have to look into it.

When she's about to form another question to her partner he suddenly passes her in two long strides, taking a closer look at the deceased girl. Her eyes are following him but she rather feels than sees the building tension in his body - he must've found the horrifying part on the victim's face.  
And somehow she knows that it's not horror which's causing his reaction, there's something else... something like... recognition?

„Lucifer, what...?“

He stumbles backwards, dismay and incredulity written all over his face.

„This isn't possible...“ he utters, eyes still glued on the limp body. 

„Lucifer, what is it? You know what caused this?“ Chloe tries again, apprehension filling her voice.

His look wavers into Chloe's direction though still not focusing on her.

„No... I'm not sure... I-“

„Seen something like this before?“ Ella chimes in. She's followed their conversation as quietly as intensely until now.

Lucifer takes another couple of seconds, apparently thinking about how to phrase an appropriate answer.  
An answer that most likely might not give away all of his knowledge, Chloe guesses warily.

Then he seems to have come to a decision for his entire posture shifts again, this time into something more looming and grim... and at once the whole room appears darker, as if all the shadows around were eagerly stretching towards him, chasing away the drape-filtered daylight.

Chloe can't help the sudden shiver running down her spine. It's moments like this that make her think there may be more about her delusional partner than she's willing to see, to admit. A side of him that's triggering a primal fear... not _completely_ human...

_Jesus, Chloe, get a grip! It's just this damned case!_

„I'm afraid I can't offer any clues, Miss Lopez.“ he finally replies tersely, adjusting his cuff links.

Ella eyes him suspiciously but doesn't press further. Maybe she too is aware of the invisible, impermeable wall he's erected around himself. She's always been quite perceptive.  
„Okay... sooo, we better start to get the body down and over to the precinct.“

At this Lucifer makes a move to turn and leave but Chloe manages to grab him by his silver-grey Burberry's sleeve.  
„Wait, where're you going?“

Lucifer allows her to stop him and glances down at her seizing hand as though contemplaiting why in the world he's letting her do this.  
„Well, it appears, Detective,“ his gaze wandering up to her face, „there isn't anything else here that'd demand my further presence. And since I'm also running a thriving night club I still have other business to attend to.“

No, Chloe's not having it this time.  
She pulls him away to a corner besides the door and crosses her arms, frowning at him.

„What's wrong, Lucifer?“, her voice low but urging. „I mean, it's clear that you're greatly affected by this,“ she waves her hand to the middle of the room, „and you obviously know something that you just won't share.“ 

His expression only hardens and she sighs. 

„Look, I get that there're different things you're not telling me for some reasons... and somehow I've come to accept that because we're friends. But we're also partners, and this is work, and I -“ she raises her hands, grasping for words, „I thought you'd at least trust me enough with this part. It... kinda hurts and, I just want to understand _why_... why you're even shutting me out of _this_ now.“

For a moment there's a palpable crack in his mask where she's able to see through and identify several roaming emotions.  
Anger, impatience, determination, but also anxiety and... something that reminds her of when she'd been poisoned, when he'd found her, nosebleeding, in her room. Something she didn't expect here and now.

He takes on a more pacifying look.  
„Believe me, Detective, there's nothing I could contribute right now that'd be of any assistance in solving this case.“  
After another deep breath he adds empathically „And I _do_ trust you, more than any other human being walking this planet. So, may I ask you to do _me_ a favour and trust me when I assure you that... if there ever should be something I'm not entirely upfront about, it might be only for _one_ reason.“

She's nearly about to ask him 'What reason?' but stops herself, for his eyes are already giving away the answer.  
_To keep you from being hurt. To keep you safe._

It's an answer she normally wouldn't be willing to accept as it implicates she were in need of protection or weren't able to handle whatever he might come up with. And that's definitely _not_ how she wants to be regarded as, especially not by her partner who's always pointed out her capability and strength, almost from day one.

But she also remembers what he'd said that other night, her birthday's night, unknowing of her being awake.  
That he'd bluffed by hiding his little trip to Las Vegas, just to not dredge up bad feelings within her. And, despite everything else, a part of her has truly appreciated his sentiment. 

Maybe that's why she's willing to trust him once again now, to give in without any objection.  
Because he'd never regard her as being weak or not capable but yet try to protect her from things that he'd think of able to hurt her.  
Even though it's been _him_ who'd hurt her feelings the last time.

Chloe holds his expectant stare for a bit longer then slowly nods her assent.  
„Ok. I'll head back to the precinct and check the statement of the janitor who found her. Dan's already drawing up a list with candidates for interviews, neighbours, colleagues,... I can call before I start with the first – if you want to.“

„Sure, Detective.“ Lucifer replies with a tiny hint of relief, his dark-brown eyes dwelling upon her teal ones for a few more seconds.  
Then all his walls are fully back in place. He swiftly turns, aiming for the door, though before crossing the treshold he throws another meaningful glance at her.  
„Be safe.“

She's still glaring at the now empty space her partner left after vanishing with those two words.  
_What was that about?_

Anyways, it's not the time to let herself be further distracted by futile thoughts about the strange behaviour of this frequently strange behaving man.  
With a firm yank of her head she puts her concentration back on the room and the case – there's work to be done.

If only she could shake off that nagging sense of foreboding...

 

\-----------------------------

 

He's already flipping through the third book on the coffee table in his penthouse when the Ding! of the elevator announces the arrival of his eagerly awaited visitor.

„Maze! Glad you've made it so fast - I need you to track down someone.“ He's not even bothering to raise his head.

The leather-clad demon storms vigorously in, hands clenched into fists.  
„What the hell is going on, Lucifer? I was just about to finish a five-grand-job when I got your cryptic emergency call. Then I get here and you're asking for an ordinary hunt?“

„Not as ordinary as you expect.“ retorts the Devil with a sudden stern voice, finally glowering at the agitated woman, who immediately stops in her tracks as she's recognising the gravity in his tone and features.

„What is it?“

Lucifer grabs his empty tumbler, gets up from the couch and strides over to the bar to pour himself another Scotch. Though he doesn't drink, just pensively sways the half-filled glass in small circles.  
„There's that case I joined, a rather barbaric murder... and I saw something. Something that...“ 

His look slides up to Maze who hasn't moved but watches him intently.  
„Remember our rare but joyful jaunts to Earth when we had to return a missing sheep to the flock?“

He can already tell by her eyes that she's remembering those occasions exceptionally well, that rush of a hunt outside the infernal territories. And she knows that he doesn't need an answer.

„Well, todays poor victim reminded me tremendously of the corpses that remained after successfully extracting the escaped sheep.“

Maze's staring at him in disbelief.  
„That's not possible! You're the only one who can do that! It must've been something el-“

_„I saw her eyes, Maze!“_ he barks at her, crashing his tumbler on the marble surface, only to feel a slight sting of regret two seconds later for he doesn't want to act out like this on his obstinate but loyal friend.  
After a couple of heartbeats he's calmed down enough to continue in a more settled tone.  
„Look, whatever it was that inhabited her body has been forced out and we need to find who- or whatever responsible for this. _Now_.“

The demon scowls but doesn't object anymore, knowing that there's little to no chance her former master could err in his presumption. And if he's right this might be also a threat for both of them. Or even for the people she cares about.  
„Gimme the address.“ 

While writing down the information Lucifer decides to tell her about the other guess he had right after leaving the crime scene.  
„There's quite a chance that this is also connected to the Sinnerman.“

„Wait, the guy you told me about weeks ago?“

„Yes, Maze,“ he snaps, „the mysterious miscreant who's presumably behind the loss of my Devil's face and the return of my wings. Too much of a coincidence having this new unearthly act.“

„Hm, you know I couldn't find any lead, back then.“

„True, but now we have a fresh corpse to start all over!“ 

She purses her lips, fetching his note then turns to head for the elevator, though hesitates before stepping inside.  
„What about Chloe? It's her case, isn't it? What if she's getting too close to 'who- or whatever'?“ 

The faint but distinct worry in her voice, the worry about a woman she once wanted to kill, prompts a short appreciative smile on Lucifer's face. How much his fierce little Maze has changed!  
„That's what we have to prevent and find a lead before the Detective does.“

 

 

The last purple remains of daylight are almost completely absorbed by the rising darkness of L.A.'s night sky when Lucifer finally finishes his intense study of ancient books and scrolls.  
Although it hasn't been very likely to find any clues about 'Celestial exorcism' – the only one that'd really work and return the possessive being back to Hell - he didn't want to risk to miss something relevant. Sure, there were mentions of cases where his doing had been involved, and the Devil remembers each one of them, but nothing else.

In a flash of frustration he sends the scroll in his hands flying across the room, a testament to the steadily spreading anxiety inside that's almost physically pulling him out of the seat cushions to his feet.

Lucifer starts to pace back and forth, contemplaiting other options since there hasn't been a message from Maze yet.  
But somehow he isn't able to keep his gaze and thoughts from drifting to the onyx ring on his right hand.  
The ring he's been wearing for eons now, forged in infernal flames, belonging to the Lord of Hell. Who he isn't anymore, is he?  
No, he's abandoned Hell, his bloody throne and title. To make his own decisions, be his own man, to become... _Who?_

His train of thoughts seem to only heighten his anxiety, this gnawing sense of threat, and he forces himself to go back and concentrate on the enigma he has to solve. 

He's pondering the pro and cons of asking Amenadiel for further information when his phone rings.

„Detective! Finally calling for the little chit-chatting with suspects?“

_„Lucifer...“_

He stops dead in his tracks at hearing this one word, her low and shaky voice.

„Detective... what-“

_„They took me to an abandoned church...want you to come...they say you know where-“_

Disconnected.

_The church where... Uriel..._

He doesn't even think about taking the car but storms right out on the balcony and throws himself over the railing, his gleaming white wings unfurling to their full span.

 

 

It takes Lucifer less than a minute to get there. 

He lands in front of the wooden and glass entrance, already tucking away his wings and pushes straight with boiling rage through the double doors, blasting them out of their hinges.

He's fully aware of the fact that the kidnappers chose this place deliberately, that they must know something about what happened here or what this place means to him. But he doesn't care, for this is about saving _her_.

Red and yellow city lights are filtering through the grand pointed windows, rarely illuminating the nave and the high wooden ceiling. Besides litter and abandoned hymnbooks there still are the broken pews and big grayed dust covers, haphazardly lying on the filthy floor just as Lucifer remembers. 

He slowly paces further into the room, fighting to control both his fury and his fear for the Detective.  
Whoever did this will get their own Hell on Earth.

Constantly scanning his surroundings, Lucifer reaches the raddled organ. Hurting memories of that dreadful night months ago are flooding his mind, but he immidiately bans them, doesn't allow them to distract him. 

There's a faint scratching sound coming from a niche behind the altar.  
_Chloe?_  
With a few fast strides he nearly closes the distance – and he sees her, standing, a gag and a blindfold covering her mouth and eyes, hands behind her back. 

A tinge of relief joins his churning emotions. He's starting to move when he suddenly hears a snap followed by a muffled yelp from her. 

The fallen angel recognises in horror the small red pin on the side of her neck and that she's about to collapse, but he doesn't make it to her, for a powerful strike is turning his own world pitch-black.


End file.
